


a faded fairy tale

by aetherae



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 18:26:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3539522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aetherae/pseuds/aetherae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes eighteen years for Estellise to become Estelle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. remember that, if nothing else

**Author's Note:**

> have you ever been so fucking desperate for a character’s backstory you just said to yourself “fuck it i’ll write it myself THERE’S NOTHING IN CANON TO PROVE ME WRONG”??? because that’s literally what this is. also i was originally just going to post this thing all at once, but then i realized how awful it would be to read like 8k words all at once on my tumblr layout. i’ll probably post the whole thing on ao3 when i’m done but for now I THOUGHT IT’D BE BEST TO SPARE PEOPLE THAT MONSTER.

“Estellise, dear, you’re a princess now. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Wide-eyed and curious, three-year-old Estellise first hears these words from her mother after her morning lessons. “Za-fee-as” not “Za-pee-as” were two very different words, according to her instructor, and she still had many more cities to learn the names of. They all sounded like nice places, but she preferred being here in the castle with her mother.

“What’s a princess?” she asks, taking care not to trip on her skirts as she makes her way over. Her mother smiles, picking her up from the floor and carrying her in her arms as she walks. When they’re outside like they are now, Estellise thinks that her mother is picking her up and bringing her to the heavens with her, the sky so close she can almost touch it. She wants to grow up so she can reach the sky too.

There’s a soft hum as her mother walks, taking them through the castle gardens. “A princess is a girl of royal blood, one who could become Empress one day.”

At three-years-old, Estellise hasn’t learned much yet, but she knows enough to feel confused at her mother’s words, tiny hands clenching at the fabric of her dress. “But you’re not the empress, Mother. I can’t become Empress if you aren’t, and someone else is the emperor right now.”

“Very good, Estellise, you’re right. Someone else is Emperor right now,” her mother says, smoothing a hand over the princess’ hair. “But our emperor has no children of his own anymore. There is no one to become emperor after him, so they have chosen you and Ioder as princess and prince. You remember who Ioder is, don’t you?”

Estellise nods silently, leaning against her mother’s shoulder. So one day she or Ioder might become the ruler of the empire… It’s strange to think about when she hasn’t even memorized all the city names yet, let alone learned how to do anything an empress would do. She looks up at her mother. “What about you, Mother? Does this mean you used to be a princess too?”

She laughs, loud and bright, the sound reverberating so thoroughly that Estellise feels it against her ear. Her mother has to hold her hand over her mouth as the last chuckles die, and she tucks a golden strand of hair behind her ear before tucking one of Estellise’s pink locks too. “No, my child, I’m afraid I was never a princess. It has been a long time since the Sidos family held the crown.”

“Oh…” The girl frowns, pouting almost. Her mother would make a great princess, a far better one the she’ll be, that’s for sure. She knows this because it’s her mother; how could she not be better than her? “That’s too bad. We could’ve been princesses together.”

“Yes, I suppose we could have.” Her mother begins humming again, carrying her with her until they reached the largest garden in the castle. There are people standing by each of the entrances that lead to the garden, “guarding” the area. Estellise isn’t really sure of what the word means yet, but when she asked one of them what they did, that’s what they told her. Knights who guarded the castle. Her mother always looks over them with a frown though, even now as she sits them both down in the flowers, so Estellise isn’t sure if she likes them guarding or not.

“As nobility, there is a limit as to what we can do for ourselves. I suppose it’s the price we must pay for the luxuries we enjoy,” her mother says, weaving flowers into Estellise’s hair, despite its short length. The young princess herself begins gathering flowers as well, a pretty bunch of blues and reds and whites. She thinks they’ll look nice in her mother’s golden locks. “As a princess, I’m afraid that it will be even harder for you.”

Turning around, Estellise reaches up to place a white daisy by her mother’s ear, the older woman’s hands having left her head once she was done with her braiding. “Mother, I don’t get what you’re saying.”

Her mother smiles at her, but there’s something in it that Estellise doesn’t really like. It’s a smile, but it looks sad. “I know, child, I know. I’ll be sure to remind you as you grow older, but…”

She reaches out to her, smoothing her hair once more before pulling the girl into a hug, so close that Estellise can smell the daisy mixing with her mother’s perfume. She hugs back, thinking the conversation strange, but she feels safe in her mother’s arms. That’s enough.

“My dearest Estellise, I want you to do things for _yourself_. It will be hard in your position, and I know that it would be impossible for you to make all of your choices, but I hope for it all the same. Remember that, if nothing else.”

“Of course, Mother. I’ll be sure to remember it.”

Estellise tries to, if nothing else. She thinks back on the memory often, even without understanding the words, until her mother passes away the next year, casket a dreary gray instead of bright white underneath the darkening clouds of her funeral day. The memory remains, but Estellise remembers other things—the warmth of her mother’s embrace, the color of her hair, the lilt in her smile. She remembers how she snuck them pastries from the kitchen when the cooks weren’t looking, read stories to her until she fell asleep, the time she slid a beaded flower from her hair into Estellise’s as they danced together. But as the years pass, no matter how hard she tries, she remembers less.

It takes her a long, long time to remember the words.


	2. and she remains friendless

Estellise is five-years-old when she realizes for the first time that she doesn’t have any friends.

There are all sorts of characters in the books she reads, familiar ones like princesses and knights, nobles and lieutenants. Some are less familiar—dashing rogues and heinous villains, plucky children and tricksters with hearts of gold. The Council doesn’t really like her reading about those kinds of characters, but Estellise is good at finding a quiet alcove where she doesn’t have to hear them repeat the same message over and over.

In all the books she’s read so far though—and she’s sure in the books she hasn’t read yet too—there is a set of descriptions that often describes the characters together. Childhood companions. Dear friends. Buddies for life. Some might not always remain friends throughout the story, and some might only become friends during the adventure, but nevertheless, there’s always friends and friendship between the main characters.

She spends the next while asking the people around her if they’re her friends. The maids, her tutors, the chefs, Council members, even the knights who still stand guarding the castle gardens.

“Friends? I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Lady Estellise, we’re here to serve you. Raise your arms now, milady, the tailor needs our help to get this properly fitted for next week’s party.”

“Of course not, I am here to instruct you as your superior! I’m sure it’s the same for the rest of your teachers as well. Enough of that nonsense, go to page 152. You’ve much to learn regarding geography. Find Dahngrest on the map, then tell me of its most exported goods and-or services.”

“Well, Lady Estellise, I’m truly flattered, but I’m far too old to be your friend. You’d be much better off finding someone around your age! Now then, would you like blueberry pie or lemon tart for dessert? —Ah, wait, the tailor said no dessert for you until after next week’s party, so never mind that…”

“Silly girl, we’ve no time to be your ‘friends’. Don’t you have a lesson to attend to at this time? Mathematics with Master Baudin, I believe. No more dawdling, get to it before you make him cross.”

“Lady Estellise, we humble knights are here to guard you and ensure that no danger comes your way. That is our duty, and nothing more. If you desire friendship, I’m afraid that you must find it elsewhere.”

No matter how much she insists that position and propriety don’t matter to her, no one is willing to change the status quo, and she remains friendless. While she already figures that even if she _did_ have friends, there’s no way she would be allowed to have an adventure, she still thinks it would be nice to have them. Hide and seek certainly sounds like a fun game from the books she’s read, but at this rate, she’ll never know for sure without someone to play it with.

She thinks that Ioder would make a good friend. He’s seemed nice from the few times she’s met him, and sometimes they even have lessons together. Once, when their instructor wasn’t looking, they doodled on each others’ papers, oceans and mountain and grass plains, what they thought places in the world outside the castle looked like.

Unfortunately, the Council doesn’t like it when she talks to him. Ioder is “competition” apparently, even though Estellise isn’t particularly concerned with winning the throne over him. She knows that he lives somewhere in the castle too, but when she asks if she can play hide and seek with him, the Council tells her no. During a particularly boring history lesson where Master Tolbert seems excited to hear himself speak, Ioder tells her that the knights say the same thing to him when he asks if he can play with her. As skilled as Estellise is at finding places to hide in the castle, she’s never been able to find where it is that Ioder stays, and so she remains hesitant to call him a friend when she hardly ever sees him.

And so it goes. While the other nobles certainly have children of their own, and some around her age, she hardly ever sees them either. Few are allowed in the castle during wartime, formal gatherings and parties being the only chance for nobles unrelated to the emperor or knights to enter. Even then, the children remain polite, respectful—distant. They bow and curtsy as soon as they see her, greet her with “It’s a pleasure to see you looking well, Lady Estellise,” before running off to play with their own friends. As the guest of honor (as she always is, along with Ioder), she isn’t allowed to play with the others when there are so many people to greet herself, nobles to speak with and knights to offer her thanks to. By the time she finishes, the party is always over.

It’s a little lonely, of course, but Estellise figures that she shouldn’t be so selfish. They may not be her friends, but the people at the castle are very kind, taking care of her as they do. She’s sure it must be a hard job after all, caring for a child. It makes her sad when they change though; Miss Edda used to come every Friday to change the bed sheets and curtains, but one day she suddenly stops coming, and Estellise is introduced to Miss Marlene instead. She tries her best not to cry when her favorite chef, Pan, tells her that she won’t be coming back to the castle anymore.

“Is it because of the shortcakes?” she asks, rubbing furiously at her eyes with the back of her hand. She’ll be scolded if she gets her dress dirty with tears. “Did you get in trouble because you’d give me some even when you weren’t supposed to? I’m really sorry, I promise I won’t ask for them again when I shouldn’t! If I do that, can you stay?”

The old woman chuckles, the laugh lines on her face the same as wrinkles now, and pats the young princess on the head. “Don’t worry my dear, it was nothing like that. These old bones are simply too tired to keep standing now. It’s been a pleasure to cook for you and see you grow, Lady Estellise. I only wish your mother—rest her soul—was still alive to see it too. But the time has come for me to rest; I hope you understand.”

Estellise nods, even though she still doesn’t like it. “Do you think you’ll be able to come visit?”

“I’m afraid not. You know how it is at these times; without employment or a close relationship to the emperor, you won’t be allowed in.”

“Then…” She lights up, smile wide as she exclaims, “Can I visit you? Where do you live? I’ll ask for permission to visit you! The Council always liked your food too, so I’m sure they won’t mind!”

The old woman smiles, but—there’s something in it that reminds Estellise of her mother, something from a long time ago. There’s something sad in it. “Of course, dear, I would be delighted to see you again. I live in the Citizens’ Quarter; if you have trouble finding me, just ask for ‘Pan’s Bread’ and I’m sure you’ll be able to find me.”

“Okay, I will! I’ll see you soon, Pan!” Estellise says, waving as the chef walks out the castle doors for the last time.

Later, when she asks the Council for permission to leave the castle, they tell her absolutely not, she’s far too young to be wandering about the city, and to spend valuable time on visiting an old woman when it could otherwise be spent on her studies would be a waste. Somehow though, she’s not surprised to hear their answer, and Estellise realizes that that was probably the last time she’ll see her favorite chef.

The people in the castle are all very kind, and she’s thankful for all they do for her, but she knows that she won’t see them again once they leave the castle. If they can’t come back, and she can’t leave, then that’s that.

It’s the same when she’s standing by the emperor’s right with Ioder to his left. They’re to see off the new recruits in the army, the push they need to end the war, and by giving them the blessings of the royal family they’re sworn to protect, their morale will be boosted incredibly—at least, that’s what Master Lemaire and the emperor tell her when she asks. She’s not sure she understands why that’s what happens, but the knights certainly look happy when the emperor addresses him with her and Ioder by his side, and she likes seeing all their smiles.

But she’s read about wars, too. Even with an army, Regin the King of Adventure never returned to the castle again after he left. She doesn’t know a whole lot about them, but she knows enough to know that some people never come back from war. She’d like to see them all come back, learn their names and faces, but war is worse than leaving the castle.

“Aw come on Casey, wait up!”

Having been allowed to walk around the throne room as she likes, two knights catch the young princess’s eye—or ears, to be more precise. Most of the knights have all been polite and well-mannered so far, like the ones she’s used to, but these two are the only ones who seem to  be having a conversation. One has long brown hair and pretty eyes, and the other a wide smile on a young face. She can’t hear the rest of their conversation clearly, but she steps forward and approaches them before she realizes it.

“Um, excuse me!”

The two knights turn to look at her immediately, confused by the tiny voice but eyes filled with recognition once they see her face. They stand at attention at once, backs straight and right arms folded across their chests. Unlike before, the two look like the picture perfect knights, just like the ones regularly posted at the castle.

“How may we help you, princess?” the woman asks—Casey, she assumes.

It hits her then that despite calling out to them, Estellise doesn’t really know what it is she wanted to ask them, and she stares at the ground nervously. While she’s more than used to greeting strangers after so many formal gatherings and parties, it just surprised her to see two knights actually looking so relaxed and easygoing, a stark contrast from just about everyone who worked in the castle. In her deliberation over what to say, she sees the two knights shift uncomfortably on their feet, so she blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Are you two friends?!”

They probably weren’t expecting a question like that. In all fairness, she wasn’t either, so she can’t blame them when their serious looks turn to ones of confusion once again. It’s still enough to make her cheeks heat up, and her gaze is torn between the ground and their faces. The man raises an eyebrow before looking at his companion, but Casey smiles softly after a moment, laughing.

“Yes, we are princess. Damuron here is a good friend of mine.” Said Damuron has his eyes pointedly turned up at the ceiling, but Casey rolls her eyes at him and continues. “Why did you want to know?”

“… I’ve never seen knights who were friends before.” It sounds silly even to her own ears, but it’s the truth.

The eyebrow Damuron raised never quite made it down, but at her statement it only rises further. Everything about this situation feels like a bad idea until he suddenly breaks into a wide grin, laughing. “It might not seem like it, but there’s plenty of friendly knights around. You just have to get to know them first.”

She looks back down at the ground, hands grasping the fabric of her dress. “The knights here say I’m not supposed to get to know them. They’re here to guard the castle and the people in it, that’s all.”

“Well that’s no fun,” says Casey, frowning, and Damuron nods at her words before reaching down to ruffle Estellise’s hair, and her eyes shoot up to look at him just as his smile stretches almost impossibly wider.

“Tell you what then! After we win the war and come back, Casey and I’ll find some friendly knights you can get to know. We’ll try and see if we can come and visit too. How does that sound?”

Casey’s laughing at what Estellise is sure is a break in propriety and some unspoken rule, and she’s sure the other knights and nobles in the room are staring at her unsightly ruffled hair, but it doesn’t stop her from nodding eagerly. “That sounds great!”

They head out soon afterwards, the knights in orderly rows and lines as they walk out the castle’s gates, the same gates that she’s seen many people walk out of now. Casey and Damuron are somewhere in it too. She loses sight of where they are exactly, so she waves the entire regiment goodbye, hoping that they see her. She knows that it’ll probably be the last time.

But despite everything that she knows and has learned, Estellise still hopes that she’ll see them again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wish i had left them in now but when i was writing this, i gave myself a small bullet point list of the things i wanted to cover in each section. this one's was something like:
> 
> \- raven and casey even though ihni what they were like at all  
> \- oh my god raven was a nervous shy type fuck me up the ass i can’t believe this


	3. so long as it is within the castle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was always really disappointed that during the dropwart sidequest, estelle says that the reason she learned how to use a sword is ~*quite the story*~ and then the game proceeds to never tell you that story.

Well-read and often warned of these sort of things, at eight-years-old just a few months shy of nine, Estellise is aware enough to realize that something is off when she hears a suspicious noise from the far corner of the library.

Setting her book down on her desk as quietly as she can, she thinks that her pounding heart might be enough to give her away to whoever else is now there inside the library with her. The knight by her side—Leblanc, she knows him as after she finally managed to weasel his name out of him just the other day—notices as well, turning to look at her before silently placing his finger against his lips. She nods, and he places his hand on the hilt of his sword as he swiftly, quietly makes his way to the back of the library. However, the library is large, and Leblanc still relatively new to the castle; she doesn’t know how well he knows the library, so she waits, straining her ears to listen for anything in the silence.

When Leblanc finally emerges from between one of the bookshelves, face stern but otherwise unharmed, she lets out a sigh of relief. That sigh gets stuck in her throat when she sees something in the corner of her eye, black and dark but shining with the glint of a knife. Estellise hears the heavy clank of Leblanc’s armor as he runs towards her, but the dark figure is faster, closer.

She moves before she even realizes it.

One moment there’s a vase to her left, ornate ivory and meant to be displayed with other oversized vases, and the next she’s heaved it up with all the strength her body has. Just as the assailant moves in, knife in hand and poised to stab, she lifts the vase above her head and brings it down, smashing it onto their head. They fall to the ground, breathing but the knife having fallen out of their hand. Stepping back and away from the body, she’s not surprised when she bumps into Leblanc, his hand at her shoulder before he steps in front of her, shouting at the door for reinforcements as more knights file in.

It’s the first time someone will have attempted to kill her. According to the Council, with the emperor’s failing health and no immediate heir declared, it won’t be the last.

As they speak around her, arguing and declaring and yelling as they make choices for her. Should the number of her guards be increased? What if it was the knights who sent that assassin, they can’t be trusted! That knight with her was too incompetent, they must get rid of him! Something must be done, what should be done, what _can_ be done? The princess must be protected at all costs, no matter what! Their voices continue rising, louder and louder over each other, so much it hurts her ears. Slamming her hands on the table, she stands.

“I’ll protect myself!”

At a mere eight-years-old, it’s the first time she’s ever raised her voice at the Council, let alone tried to argue with them. Their initial shocked silence dissolves into shouting, how teaching her how to fight is unnecessary, crude, barbaric, unladylike. She uses all the diplomacy she’s learned and cultivated to convince them otherwise. After all, they said so themselves—something like this was likely to happen again. To call it unnecessary would be to turn a blind eye to the situation. The art of swordsmanship is refined, graceful, unless they dare to insult the people who protect them. She is a princess before she is a lady, and if the future empress cannot even protect herself, she couldn’t be expected to protect the Empire. Despite their grumbles and disagreements, they eventually concede, arranging for a loyal, skilled knight to become her teacher in the art of swordsmanship.

It feels like the first decision she’s made for herself in a long, long time (albeit one she had to be allowed to make).

As the Council searches, the war ends, and as the war ends, the emperor passes away quietly during the night in his sleep. What should be a celebratory gathering in the castle becomes a mournful assembly, and the knights who return from the war are all dressed in black, even as they tell tales of their victories. The throne remains a somber, empty sight, even with her and Ioder by its side once more. Master Baudin said that it would have to remain empty until either she or Ioder were chosen as heir; when that will be, she doesn’t know, but she can’t say she wants to be chosen either. Even if it’s only a chair, the throne seems big enough to swallow her whole.

“Is something the matter, Princess? You seem rather glum.”

The voice is unfamiliar, but when Estellise looks up, its a face that she recognizes—Alexei Dinoa, the most famous hero from the war. Despite him looking so much older now, even if it was only a few years he was gone, she remembers seeing him with the last regiment that left the castle. With how well he had done, there was even talk in the castle of him becoming the next commandant. It would be impossible not to recognize him at this point.

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” she says, smiling politely. “I was just… The emperor’s passing is weighing on us all, I believe.”

Briefly, he turns his gaze from her to the throne. “You are correct. If I have heard correctly, the late emperor had not been able to declare an heir either; it leaves us in a troubled state.”

She nods silently, looking back at the throne again before looking up once more at the knight. Neither the tone of his voice nor his expression had changed much as he spoke to her, so it’s hard to tell what he might be thinking. He seems about as still as statue, in all honesty.

“I take it then that the Council is doing their utmost to prepare you as the next heir?”

“Yes, of course. There’s still much that I need to learn, but I’ve been studying a lot.” Whether or not she actually _wants_ to be the heir though, well. Even years after of being royalty, Estellise still isn’t sure on if she really wants to rule the empire. The Council talks about it like an immediate, soon-to-come event, but she can’t even imagine herself sitting on the throne, whether it’s as she is now or ten years from now.

“That’s good to hear.” He pauses, and she thinks that there might be just the slightest change in his expression when he continues. It almost looks like a smile. “While the official stance of the knights is in support of his highness Ioder, I personally would not argue against seeing you ascend the throne. You’ve an ability akin to the emperors and empresses of old, do you not?”

For once, Estellise wishes that one of the Council members was actually there with her. They would know how to reply the question, even if it would probably be a rude reply, but she’s not quite sure what to say. The Council, her teachers, and even her mother all told her that she shouldn’t tell many people about her “ability”. She hadn’t realized it was even anything when she was younger, just that when she saw a bird with a broken wing, she wished with all her heart that it would fly again; before she knew it, the ground had lit up beneath her, and by the time she could see past the light, the bird was flying. It wasn’t until later that they told her she should have needed a blastia for healing artes, that it wasn’t supposed to be natural.

Thinking back, it was a little after that that she became princess, and a little after _that_ that she was given a blastia. She clutches the gem on her wrist, looking nervously to the side.

Should she tell him that she has that power? He wasn’t someone she knew well, and the knights weren’t supposed to be in support of her… But as a knight, he was also sworn to protect the royal family—that meant her too, didn’t it? Even if the Council didn’t like the knights, they had spoken well of his service during the war. It should be okay to tell him this.

Finally looking back up at him, she nods. “I do. They said that no one in the royal family has had this power for a long time.”

“Correct. While no one can say why, that power has been dwindling in the royal family, regardless of which branch. Perhaps it is a sign that you will rule one day, just like your ancestors before you.”

“Oh, um,” she half-laughs, smiling sheepishly. She would need a lot more than just this to rule as empress, wouldn’t she? Never mind that she wasn’t sure on if she even wanted to or not. “I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Yes, I suppose we shall.” Before she can say more, he lies his right arm across his chest, bowing. “Forgive me, Princess, but I must go and greet his highness Ioder as well. It has been a pleasure speaking with you.”

“Right, of course!” She nods her head, eager to let the conversation go. “It’s been a pleasure to speak with you as well, Captain Alexei.”

He nods once more before turning away, but just as Estellise lets out a small sigh of relief, she looks back up to see him facing her once more. She gulps, wondering if she did something wrong. After a moment though, he raises his hand slightly, as if telling her to stand at ease.

“Master Tolbert has informed me that you’re in need of a sword instructor. After his commendable service during the war, Sir Drake Dropwart will be retiring; I believe he would make a fine teacher for you.”

With that, he takes his leave, and Estellise asks the Council about Sir Dropwart the following day.

He’s not unkind, Sir Dropwart, but there’s a certain discipline to him that intimidates Estellise all the same. While her instructors like Master Tolbert and Master Baudin are all strict and relentless when it comes to following the rules, none of them inspire the same reverent, wary awe that she feels when she’s training with Sir Dropwart.

And train she does. If her instructors are relentless when it comes to rules, Sir Dropwart is ruthless when it comes to her swordsmanship form. It takes her more than a week to understand how to hold a sword in a way that he’s happy with, and naturally, it takes even longer to make it anywhere near actual sword practice. By the time she finally _does_ reach it, she almost regrets ever wanting to learn to begin with.

“Back straight, shoulders relaxed, your footwork is too sloppy! Extend your arm, lift your shield higher, a lunge like that would leave you open for attack on the battlefield! Don’t run from every attack, you should have been able to parry that, keep your eyes on your opponent’s movements, not just their weapon!”

Almost.

Her hard work is rewarded when one day, he takes her not to the open courtyard left clear and free for personal use by royalty, but to the courtyard on the other side of the castle, the one reserved for knights in training. Hands relaxed and at her side even with the shield strapped to her left arm, thirteen-year-old Estellise stands at attention by Sir Dropwart as the drill sergeants call a halt to practice, eager to greet the famous knight.

“Sir Dropwart, what a surprise! To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Oh, Sir Dropwart, you came at the worst time! These new recruits are all so embarrassing, I’m ashamed you have to see them like this…”

“Ah, and Lady Estellise as well I see. She’s your apprentice, correct? Unfortunately, if you’ve come here to observe sword training, I’m afraid we’ll only disappoint.”

“Well, about that,” her sword master says, turning his gaze over to said new recruits, all of whom are watching him with both a hawk-like intensity and childish curiosity at once. She can see a number of them swallow as they meet his gaze. “If I remember the schedule of things right, you should’ve had these recruits for about a month already, yes?”

One of the lieutenants nods. “That would be correct, sir.”

“Perfect. Grab the best one in the lot and bring them to me. My apprentice will face them in a duel.”

The entire courtyard goes pale with worry. Whether it was because the idea of attacking the princess was ludicrous, or that the idea of showing their flawed swordsmanship in front of a master was beyond embarrassing, she couldn’t tell. In fact, she’s rather sure her own face is going pale with worry—she’s never fought against someone other than Sir Dropwart, and while he always goes as easy as possible against her, she _still_ loses every time. Actually facing someone seriously in combat sounds ludicrous.

“Master,” she says quietly, holding her practice sword with a death grip, “are you sure this is a good idea?”

Her swordmaster levels her with a stern look, and Estellise does not dare to say more. The knights, on the other hand, venture to speak again, and the lieutenant steps forward, hand at his chest.

“With all due respect, Sir Dropwart, I don’t believe this is an ideal way to train the princess. If she is injured, we’ll have failed in our duty as knights, don’t you think?”

Sir Dropwart scoffs; with how grave he always looks, it’s practically a scowl. “Do you think me to be so incompetent as a teacher that my student would be injured from a simple spar? Summon one of these soldiers for a duel, or we shall see my own skill with the sword instead.”

The lieutenant gulps, and he barks an order for someone to step forward immediately. Estellise can’t help but stare at the ground, gripping the hilt of her sword even tighter. She almost wants to hide behind her shield, but she’s sure Sir Dropwart would have her head for that. Not to mention, she _is_ the princess; as much as she may not feel like it, to hide from the knights would be insulting to all of them.

Eventually, one of the knights steps forward—whether or not he’s the strongest among them, she can’t really say, seeing as how all of them were reluctant to step forward to begin with. After the lieutenant threatened twenty more laps around the courtyard though, a young man finally steps forward. He’s tall and rather lanky, as for his name—she hopes no one will ever ask her, because as embarrassing as it is, she’s so nervous that she completely misses his name when he introduces himself, taking her own step forward to the area they’ve now cleared for their duel. She hopes that he’ll succeed as a knight, and she swears that she’ll remember his name next time she sees him.

“I say, it is an honor to have this duel with you, Princess,” he says, bowing before fixing his helmet so the cover stays up. If she didn’t feel like she was about to throw up, she would probably find it endearing.

Estellise gulps, bowing as well. She raises her shield and tries to stop her sword hand from shaking. “Likewise, the honor is mine.”

Sir Dropwart stands between them, the rest of the knights in a circle around. She’s not sure what’s worse: having probably fifty pairs of eyes on her all at once, or that her teacher will be paying especially close attention this time. After looking at them both, he steps back.

“Begin!”

The knight dashes forward, lunging with his sword in a downward slash, and Estellise—she can _see_ it, she sees the direction of his blade and where he intends to strike, how his lunge has left all his weight on his right leg, leaving his side completely defenseless. With a foreign ease and grace, Estellise dodges the knight’s swing and slams her shield into his armored side. He stumbles forward, mouth agape as he regains his footing. From what she sees in the corner of her eye, the rest of the knights are in a similar state.

For just a brief moment, she could swear that she sees Sir Dropwart smile.

“A-An excellent blow, Lady Estellise!” the knight stammers, adjusting his helmet again. “However, you’ve not had the best of me!”

So it goes. The longer the duel goes on, the more she finds herself surprised at how easily she can read his moves. His training isn’t just for show either though, and she has to parry with her shield more than just a few times. He slashes, she guards; she lunges, he parries. It continues for much longer than probably anyone expected (save her master, most likely), but she sees her chance when the knight leaps into the air, both hands gripping his sword.

She waits until the last moment, so long she can practically see his sword mere inches from her face—only then does she dodge, rolling to the side as her opponent lands harshly. Using her shield, she swipes at his already unsteady feet, and he falls. As quick as he tries to stand back up—

“Match,” she says, out of breath, practice sword pointed at his unguarded neck.

Silence hangs in the air, not a single person even shifting. Finally, the knight hangs his head. “I say, I admit defeat.”

At first, the silence only continues. Even after Estellise has put her sword away, there’s nothing. It isn’t until Sir Dropwart claps that the others follow suit. He steps towards her, and while he isn’t smiling exactly, she thinks there’s a glitter of something in his eyes.

“Excellent work, Lady Estellise. You’ve followed my instruction well.”

Her arms might be sagging at her sides from exhaustion, but all the fatigue in the world couldn’t stop her from beaming with pride at his words. “Of course, Master! I’m glad to have lived up to your expectations.”

The knights congratulate her as well, and they do the same for her opponent. It was a good match, if the ache in her muscles said anything about it. She felt… proud.

But they don’t invite them to observe another training session again.

“They’re embarrassed,” her instructor explains as she reads texts on the knights’ artes. “To have been defeated by the charge they are duty-bound to protect—they may be rookies, but a loss is still a loss. If they’re to save any face at all, it wouldn’t do to have you come back and defeat one of them again.”

She turns the page in her book, reaching a chapter focused on minor healing artes. First Aid was an important arte for knights, but she’d learned it a long time ago. “They sound like they have a lot of duties… If I’m learning how to protect myself already, wouldn’t it be alright to relieve them of that duty?”

“No, Princess,” he says sternly, enough so that she looks up at him. “For servants of the Empire—the knights, nobility, you and I—duty is everything. Abandoning it simply isn’t an option.”

“But,” she starts hesitantly, having never dared to ask the Council about this. “What if you don’t want that duty anymore? The knights can retire, like you, Master. Is it not the same for the other servants of the Empire?”

He looks at her coolly, and she quickly turns her gaze back to her book, flipping to another page. For a while she thinks he won’t even bother to answer her question, but when he motions for her to put the book away, she understands.

“For a person in your standing, there are two ways to escape your duty. Your parents both found one of them.”

The princess looks at him, eyebrows raised. “They did? I never heard of that.”

Estellise has no memory of her father save for stories, that he was killed by monster during a diplomatic trip to Capua Nor. Sir Dropwart said he was glad to hear that she requested swordsmanship instruction, so that she might avoid the same fate as her father. She can’t imagine if he wanted to escape his duty or not. But in her mind, her mother is always the same. Regal, graceful, noble—the very picture of what an empress should look like. There was never a hair out of place on her head, the crisp folds of her skirt hardly swaying even as she walked. Her presence alone demanded attention from others in the room, and the knights always stood at attention the moment she came in. Estellise doesn’t understand how the figure in her memories could have left her duty to the Empire.

Sir Dropwart nods, silent and solemn. “They did, as they both died.”

Somehow, she feels her heart drop into her stomach.

“The other is banishment. It is a disgraceful, dishonorable thing; not only would you be shamed, you will bring shame upon the entire empire as well.” He pauses, sighing. It occurs to her then just how old her sword instructor is. For all his strength and technique, it’s with good reason that he’s retired now; he just looks so _old_. “Listen well, Lady Estellise. From the moment the blood of the Empire ran through your veins, you were bound to serve it. It is both your birthright and your duty, and if all is well, it shall be a long, long time before you are released from it. That is simply the way things are.”

“… Of course. I understand,” she says, standing up to put her book away. There will be time for it later. There will be time for many things, for all the things she has to learn and study and practice—so long as it is within the castle.

There’s no other choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this time on crude bullet point summaries:
> 
> \- first assassination attempt on her life ever  
> \- i love leblanc i want him to be here  
> \- hell fucking yeah pots and vases  
> \- oh my god alexei being a freak I DON'T WANT TO WRITE THIS FUCK  
> \- dropwat seemed like a hardass  
> \- can estelle whoop some knight ass you bet she can  
> \- YOU CAN NEVER ESCAPE YOUR DUTYYYYY


	4. the only way she knows how to ask

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one of my biggest disappointments with first strike is that they had the perfect opportunity to give us more about estelle’s and flynn’s friendship. AND THEY DID JACK SHIT WITH IT.

At sixteen, Estellise’s distant cousin (and rival candidate, maybe friend if she stretches the definition enough,) Ioder is eighteen, and as he is eighteen, it’s decided that he will be spending the next few years traveling around the Empire—outside the capital. The knights say it’s to help increase his worldly knowledge, to help better prepare him for the throne one day, and Estellise couldn’t be happier for him.

“Will you write letters? Tell me if Halure’s branches really lead to an underground maze like that old book we have, or if Capua Nor really sells the “hundred-fish sandwich” when you go there! Oh, maybe you can take pictures? I’m sure the Photography Guild would be more than happy to sell you a camera! And maybe if you go to Dahngrest, you can—” Estellise cuts herself off when she sees Ioder’s amused, beatific smile, and she realizes that she’s been rambling for a while now. “I apologize. I know I’m asking a lot of you.”

Ioder waves it off, calm and poised. Estellise wonders if the royal manners lessons he sat through were even worse than hers, or if his almost constant serenity is simply a part of him. “It isn’t too much at all, don’t worry. After how much we both sat in Master Tolbert’s lessons flipping through maps, it’s only fair that I try to show you some of what I see.”

She smiles, looking back out the window into the courtyard. Ioder’s day of departure is still a few days away, but the castle is already bustling with preparations. While Leblanc said that there’ll be at least three carriages for Ioder’s “necessary” belongings, even her cousin himself doesn’t understand why all of that is needed.

“It would be nice if I could see it someday, too.”

“Well, why not try asking the Council?” Ioder asks, pointing down through the window. It looks as if Master Baudin is getting into a yelling match with a knight, as is always the case with him. “If you’re going to be the empress one day, you have to learn more about the Empire too, yes? They may be planning for you to travel once you turn eighteen as well.”

His optimism is endearing, but Estellise has her doubts. The Council never reacts well to her wishes, and yet, she wants to hope as well. “Do you really think they’d let me?”

“You’ll never know unless you ask.” Ioder smiles, tranquil and at peace as always, and it almost makes her worries fade away. She thinks that he’d make a good emperor, if he was chosen.

“Yes, you’re right,” she says quietly, but she nods to herself and stands up from her seat. There was never any harm in asking. “I’m going to ask them at the next Council meeting! Even if they say no, I’ll try to convince them anyways!”

Ioder nods at her, not even batting an eye as she takes off. The next Council meeting is just in an hour, and it’s the perfect opportunity. Most of her wishes and requests get turned down when she asks, but she thinks back to when she was a mere eight-years-old and asked—no, _demanded_ —to be taught the way of the sword. It’s unlikely, but it’s not impossible, and that’s enough to spur her to take a firm step forward into the Council’s meeting hall.

Estellise is not a child, not the same little girl she was eight years ago, and she uses all the diplomacy and oratory skills she’s cultivated in the past sixteen years to get them to agree.

They all shoot her down unanimously. No matter what she says, no matter her logic and reasoning, the Council members insist that she’ll stay within the castle even after she turns eighteen, and for longer. It goes unsaid, but she’s rather sure that the unsaid _forever_ is implied.

It doesn’t surprise her, in all honesty. They’ve never approved of her leaving the castle no matter the reason, so frankly, she expected it.

She expected it, but on the day Ioder leaves for Halure—the closest town to Zaphias, she knows, with it’s giant tree of blooming blossoms that she also knows of but will probably never see with her own eyes—it doesn’t stop the pang of envy in her heart when she watches him leave through the castle gates.

The castle is quieter then, at least for a little while. While she’d never been able to see Ioder much, even with him living in the same place as her, his absence is almost tangible in the air. She goes about her time regardless, studying the same things as always, practicing the same sword forms as always. Her tutors praise her knowledge, and Sir Dropwart commends her for how far she’s come, but the monotony of her days almost makes them blur together. She practices and studies, curtsies and attends dances, goes to sleep and wakes up to repeat the exact same thing again.

To her horror, she realizes that she might spend the rest of her life like this.

When the castle gets a new crop of knights, Estellise expects it to be routine. What she doesn’t expect is to run into a blonde knight fuming in one of the castle gardens, angrily muttering to himself with his back facing her. His hair is a similar shade of blonde to Ioder’s, and she thinks that he must be around his age, but that’s where the similarities end. From his yelling alone, Estellise thinks that he must be the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, emotions raw and in the open for everyone to see. It’s so different from the people she knows in the castle, so much so that it immediately catches her attention.

“Honestly, he still had time to reconsider!” the young knight sighs, still talking to himself in what he must think is a private space. Not wanting to intrude, Estellise tries to make her way past the garden as quietly as possible. “He could’ve come here if he wanted, if he wasn’t so stupidly stubborn all the—”

His voice dies in his throat when he spins around, eyes growing wide when he sees her. Estellise stops in her tracks, looking to the side sheepishly. She’s about to apologize for her overhearing when the knight suddenly stands at attention, face red and obviously flustered.

“I-I apologize, I didn’t think anyone would be passing by here! The after ceremony for the knights was getting noisy, and I just wanted to find somewhere more quiet, so—Anyways, please forgive me for the disturbance I was causing, miss.”

He bows, stiff and overly formal as if he’s still settling into the act. It makes her smile, a little amused and even curious. She can’t remember the last time she was addressed so informally, and it almost feels refreshing in a way.

“It’s alright, you don’t need to apologize. I’m just sorry for overhearing you in the middle of your thoughts,” she says, hiding a quiet laugh behind her hand when the knight’s face turns even redder.

“No, I should have paid more attention to my surroundings. It won’t do for a knight to be so unaware…” he trails off, but he raises his arm and lies it across his chest in salute. “Where are my manners? My name is Flynn Scifo, and I’ve recently been stationed here at Zaphias Castle. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, miss.”

Estellise curtsies, graceful and as elegant as nearly sixteen years of practice can give her. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, Flynn. My name is Estellise Sidos Heurassein.”

Even as she says it, she can see his face blanching. It almost makes her wish she didn’t have to tell him.

“T-That means you’re the princess, right?”

Estellise nods. Flynn panics.

“Please forgive me, your highness! If I’d known it was you, I wouldn’t have addressed you so disrespectfully, I swear!” he yells, and his panicked babbling would’ve continued if Estellise hadn’t come closer, waving her hand dismissively as she tried to reassure him.

“Really, don’t worry about it so much! I don’t mind being called miss, and it was a simple mistake, that’s all.”

He shakes his head, surprisingly stubborn about the matter. “If I’m going to be stationed here for a while, then it’s my duty to learn as much about the castle as possible. To not even recognize the princess is a grave error on my part.”

Honestly, she thinks that he’s taking a small mistake a little too seriously, but she also knows that the Council and the other nobles here would certainly say otherwise. Frankly though, she’s a little tired of what the Council and other nobles have to say, so she takes Flynn by the hand and leads him out of the garden.

“Let me show you around then! The castle’s quite big, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, and it’s easy to get lost if you’re on your own. Even with as diligent as Leblanc is, it still took him a few months to remember where everything is here.”

“L-Lady Estellise, it’s alright!” Flynn stammers, protesting but walking along with her anyways. “There’s a tour for the new knights here later, so I’ll get the chance to see everything then. I don’t want to waste your time with something as simple as this.”

She smiles widely at him, and any further protest he has seems to die on his lips. “It isn’t a waste of my time at all, I promise. Now here, that was the public garden you were at just then, but down the hall here and into the corridor at the right, we’ll see the private garden meant for the nobles living here…”

Her days change suddenly, and it’s a change she welcomes with open arms. Over the next while she learns a lot about Flynn—how he’s stubborn but kind, polite but short-tempered, and that he’s by far one of the most honorable knights she has ever had the fortune of meeting.

Despite her attempt to help him settle into the castle, it becomes evident that he never even needed it. There are a myriad of different knights here, some from the past and some still current. Some are quiet but diligent, like Sir Schwann, while others are more cunning and haughty, like Sir Cumore. None of them are like Flynn though, determined and admirable and unwavering in his goals. It doesn’t surprise her when he steadily rises through the ranks, even as he still helps in the more mundane tasks around the castle. Estellise loses count of the times someone from the Council sends him to look for her, only to find her in one of many hidden nooks in the library with a book. He’ll always insist that she come down to attend her lesson—even if it’s one she’s repeated three times already that month—while she’ll hold a finger to her mouth, asking him to keep quiet about it as she finishes this last part in the book, no more than ten more minutes, really. Even though he looks reluctant, he always acquiesces and sits down with her, asking her about the book she’s reading.

She likes him, she realizes. Not in the storybook way of princesses and their loyal knights, not then at least, but enough where she wonders if she can actually call their relationship a friendship.

It’s a warm, sunny day in the private training ground of the castle when she thinks to ask him. Flynn protested the first time she asked him to spar with her, and the next time after that, and the _next_ time after that. He only relents after an assassin invaded the castle one day, only for her to knock her would-be killer out cold with the back of her hilt to their neck before Flynn even reached her. He remains reluctant as ever to actually spar with her, but on days like today, they train on the grounds. With his real world combat experience, he helps her with her sword training, and with her talent for artes (her power, her unnatural skill that she doesn’t tell even him about even though she thinks he already suspects it), she helps him with his own artes. It works out evenly.

“Flynn,” she starts, staring at the ground as she puts on her practice gear. Even though Flynn wears nothing but his regular knight tunic, he always insists that the wear the protective gear. “May I ask you something?”

He turns to her, wooden sword in hand and shield already strapped to his arm. “Of course. What is it?”

Estellise’s heart pounds, and she feels like a child for even feeling like this, for even having to ask. It’s silly, and she knows it, but without ever having had a friend in her life, there isn’t any other way for her to confirm.

“Are we friends?”

He’s silent for a moment, mouth hanging slightly open. For a moment, she wonders if he’ll say no, or laugh at her for her silly question. It wouldn’t be the first time someone told her that they weren’t her friend, at least.

But he smiles, warm but also just a little sad, as if he’s sorry that this is the only way she knows how to ask. “Of course, Lady Estellise. It may be a bit impertinent of me when I’m nothing but a lowly knight, but I would gladly call you my friend.”

“It’s not impertinent of you at all, really!” she exclaims with a wide smile. Lighting up, she hops onto her feet with a bounce in her step and draws her wooden sword. “Then as your friend, I’m expecting you not to hold back. Ready?”

Flynn laughs lightly but raises his sword as well, nodding confidently. “And the same to you.”

After sixteen years, here she was, spending time with a friend like any other person. Maybe spending it sparring with swords was a bit unorthodox, but she wasn’t about to be picky about it. Estellise finally had a friend, and she couldn’t ask for more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- ioder gets to have all the fun  
> \- castle life sucks ass news at 10  
> \- but then mr. heart throb with the steely gaze


	5. for herself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m actually kind of proud of this. 11k+ words of me babbling about estelle, i’ll throwdown with anyone who thinks they love estelle more than me tbh.

It takes sixteen years for Estellise to gain her first friend, but it takes even longer for her to leave the castle.

On her birthday, nobles and knights attend the party held in her honor, congratulating her for growing ever closer to reaching the age of adulthood. She greets them and gives them thanks, curtsying gracefully with a wide smile as she remains ever aware of the Council standing behind her.

She’s almost an adult, yet they still keep her within the castle walls like a child.

Stuck in the castle she may be, but as always, the others in the castle aren’t. It’s a hot summer day when she overhears shouting from the front of the castle, Leblanc already grimacing at her side.

“I say, accept your sentence and walk quietly!”

“Oh, I’ve accepted it alright, but if you want quiet you might wanna take a look at yourselves instead. Tweedle B here has some of the squeakiest armor I’ve ever heard.”

“This is how armor always sounds, you fool! And my name isn’t Tweedle B!”

Even from a distant hall, Estellise can hear them loud and clear. In all her years, with a lifetime of overhearing both pompous nobles and dangerous criminals, she’s never heard such a ruckus raised over anyone.

“Are Adecor and Boccos alright, Sir Leblanc?” she asks, poking her head through the arch of yet another hallway. “I’ve never heard them so… indignant before.”

Her escort pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Please, pay it no mind, princess. We’ve been dealing with a rather troublesome person as of late, but that’s no reason for them to make such a ruckus. I’ll have to punish them later.”

He leads her away from the area, the shouting voices slowly becoming a distant murmur, but it’s impossible for Estellise to pay it no mind. To begin with, she doesn’t want to; it’s _interesting_ , seeing the castle thrown into a bit of disarray, even if it’s only one small part of it. Secondly, well, it really is impossible for her to ignore it. There isn’t a month that goes by where she doesn’t hear the same voices repeating more or less the same things only for the same things to happen as always. Avoiding taxes, refusing summons, disrespecting a knight—with so many ways to wind back up in prison, she almost wonders if this person likes it there.

“I want to speak with him,” she says, brow furrowed and mouth set in a frown.

The knights guarding the dungeon’s entrance shake their heads in perfect, practiced unison. “I sincerely apologize, Lady Estellise, but I’m afraid we cannot allow you access to the dungeon.”

“But why not?”

“The Council has forbidden it,” the knight replies simply, her partner next to her bowing in apology. “You do not have the authority to override their command, I’m afraid.”

For all her status, she apparently has no authority to back it up, and it isn’t until she’s talking with Flynn one day that she finally learns more about their frequent prisoner. She’s teaching him how to weave flower crowns, like she used to with her mother, when he surprises her with not only his first successful daisy crown out of twenty or so attempts and dozens upon dozens of crushed flowers, but by the tired sigh he huffs out after he places the crown on her head.

“I agree with them, Lady Estellise. He isn’t the sort of person you should speak with so casually.”

“How can I know that when I haven’t even met him though? I’m sure there’s a reason he—wait.” Estellise’s hands freeze, and she leans closer to her friend, eyes wide and curious. She thinks his face flushes, but she can’t quite be sure. “Does that mean you know him?”

He stares at her, and she can almost see how he’s trying to explain away his easy familiarity with this apparent stranger. It won’t work on her though, and after another sigh, he relents. “Yes, I do. He’s a good friend of mine—my best friend, actually.”

“He’s your best friend, but you think I shouldn’t meet him,” she says slowly, head tilted just slightly as she sets her work-in-progress down.

“Yes—well, no.” Flynn sets his own flowers down as well, his hands having turned them into knots as he spoke. He laughs lightly at himself, but finally manages, “It’s a little complicated.”

She smiles, her full attention on her knight. “Well, we have time. Why don’t you try to explain it to me if it’s so complicated?”

Brow furrowed, it’s obvious that Flynn isn’t too sure about this himself, but he nods and agrees to tell her. She thinks it might be the first time he’s ever had the chance to tell anyone about it.

Estellise learns that Flynn Scifo’s best friend, and the castle’s frequent prisoner, is Yuri Lowell. She learns that Yuri Lowell was a knight for two short months before quitting in disdain, that the only thing his time as a trainee taught him was a few convenient artes and how to get under a knight’s skin in ten words or less. She learns that Yuri Lowell is an orphan, like Flynn, and that he grew up in the Lower Quarter, like Flynn. She learns that Yuri Lowell and Flynn were practically inseparable since childhood, and the reason why they weren’t still inseparable was because while Flynn was willing to work within the system to change it, to put an end to the corruption she saw everyday, Yuri Lowell couldn’t stand for that.

Estellise doesn’t know Yuri Lowell, but she thinks that she can’t blame him either. Here she was, eighteen-years-old and having been part of that system for her entire life with nothing worthwhile to show for it.

“Even so,” she finally says once Flynn’s finished, placing a flower crown of daisies in his blonde hair, “I don’t think any of that is reason enough for me to not meet him. Besides, at this rate, he might as well become a castle resident.”

Flynn laughs lightly, staring at the ground. “You’re right, honestly. I actually think it would do well for you both to meet each other.”

“Really? How so?”

He remains silent for a short while before standing up, careful to make sure his crown stays on his head, before offering his hand to her. “I’ll tell you when you get the chance to meet him. For now, I believe it’s about time for Sir Dropwart to arrive.”

It’s not much of an answer, but Estellise is used to waiting. She doesn’t think it’ll hurt to wait a little longer for his answer this time.

With Flynn’s pilgrimage coming up though, she realizes that she’ll probably be waiting for a long time. It’s a necessary process for a knight to be fully recognized as a knight, but even though his presence in the castle was for a few short years, she can’t imagine what it’ll be like once he leaves. She doesn’t want to imagine. The monotonous days of lessons and meetings where she learns nothing new and says nothing she wants to, of being told what to do and nothing else, of not having a single friend to speak with, laugh with.

But what else can she do?

When she hears that Flynn is in danger, she realizes that there is something else she can do. Something she _has_ to do.

She fights to escape. All the rules and knights shouting at her in the world wouldn’t be enough to stop her, not when her friend’s _life_ is at stake. Getting out of the castle is the only thing on her mind, so much so that she doesn’t even think twice about smashing a vase on the black-haired man’s head.

Until she realizes that he’s Yuri. The Yuri Lowell that’s broken a record for spending time in their jail, the Yuri Lowell that most certainly didn’t belong here in the castle hallways but was here anyways. Most importantly, he’s the Yuri Lowell who’s best friends with Flynn.

Estellise knows an opportunity when she sees one, and she clings to it before it has the chance to slip away.

He’s… not quite what she expected. She’s not sure what she expected in the first place, but he destroys every single one of those vague expectations with every dry glance and sarcastic word he says. It’s not hard to see how he and Flynn would get along, but she can’t imagine what Flynn meant when he said he thought it’d be good for the both of them to meet.

She knows how meeting Yuri is good for her though, and when she climbs up out of Zaphias’s sewer to set foot outside the castle, she knows she’s never been more thankful to meet anyone.

They run through the city, and the hometown Estellise has never had the chance to see passes by in a blur as he leads her to the Lower Quarter. Her heart is pounding, fueled by something akin to glee and hesitance both. It hits her then that not only is she outside of the castle, she’s going to leave the city entirely. Not even the thrill of reading her favorite book could compare to this.

_‘I want you to do things for yourself. It will be hard in your position, and I know that it would be impossible for you to make all of your choices, but I hope for it all the same.’_

Estellise doesn’t remember it; not consciously, but her heart soars with a nostalgic feeling she’d almost forgotten. It feels like she’s doing something important, not just for Flynn’s sake. But for herself.

“I’m not sure how long we’ll be together,” he says, he and Repede both casually ignoring the roaring stampede of Lower Quarter citizens blocking Leblanc from reaching them, “but here’s to the road ahead, Estelle.”

“Yes, I…? Huh? … Es…stelle…?” It catches her off guard, even as she says it, but she likes the way it sounds. “… Estelle. Estelle.”

To the road ahead then, whatever may lie before her. As Estelle.

She runs past the barrier with Yuri, Repede right alongside them, and as she sets foot outside the city and into the world, Estellise finally becomes Estelle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- i love leblanc i want him in here too  
> \- how many fucking times can yuri get himself thrown into jail  
> \- flynn goes on his knight pilgrimade how yabai  
> \- but then she finally meets yuri i can call her estelle now  
> \- wait that's the end of the fic shit

**Author's Note:**

> god this was a project i started for myself last march. i didn't think it'd take this long to finish it, but i'm actually more surprised that i finished it to begin with. anyways, cross-posting from tumblr since it'd probably be easier to read this massive monster fic here than on my tumblr.


End file.
